


The Last Goodbye

by Queen (ramble)



Category: Glee
Genre: Cancer, Childhood, Comfort, Coping, Kurt's Childhood, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Parent Death, Past, Past Character Death, Video Tapes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3201410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramble/pseuds/Queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kurt comes across his mother's old video tapes, he decides to go ahead and play them by himself even though he knows he should probably wait for his dad. She spent the last two years of her life recording everything she could in order to help her men live without her and trying to make sure that her son could look back and know that his mom was proud of him, no matter what.</p><p>(Blaine and present-Burt enter later.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Recording

**Author's Note:**

> On one hand, this fic is going to be extremely sad because we all know that Mrs. Hummel (who I always call Elizabeth because I like that headcanon) died when Kurt was 8. On the other hand, I think that this is going to be rather heartwarming too. 
> 
> This fic is a bit different from my usual ones in that I normally write the whole thing first, edit it once, have someone else peer-edit, then edit it again before posting each chapter. I'm not doing that with this. I'm posting chapter by chapter as I go (as most fanfictions are usually posted). So if there's some discrepancies I do apologize. But in general, please enjoy.

“Is it working?” the soft spoken voice of a child asked.

“Yes Sweetie,” his mother responded. “See this light?” He poked his face into the lens of the camera, slowly running his fingers around the outside rim. “That means it’s recording. Do you have anything you want to tell the future?” 

“The future! Ok so in the future, there’s going to be-”

“Step back, let them see you.” The little boy took a tiny step away. “A little more.” He started moving backwards until his entire torso was visible. “Stop, there you are. That’s a nice shirt you have on today.”

“Thank you I picked it out myself.”

“I know you did. Now, what were you telling the future?”

“Oh! In the future. Uhmm...I’m going to be a star.”

“You are!”

“Uhhuh. And you and dad will always have front row seats.” The scene fell silent for a moment. The tiny boy’s face scrunched up in concern. “I can get balcony seats if those aren’t good enough!”

“Its...its not that. Kurt, why don’t you put on a show for us now. Dad and I will make the stage for you, we’ll set up a nice little dinner table for three, and you can give us your performance before desert. How’s that?”

“Ok!” the boy squealed as his smile returned. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too Mom.”

Kurt had known this was going to hurt as soon as he’d heard her voice. He was six years old when his mom was diagnosed with cancer. He was eight when she died. For those last two years he remembered that camera being a constant companion. He’d forgotten about them until he found the old box of tapes in the attic.


	2. The Second Recording

She looked so young. Younger than her actual age even. That was a good sign, genetically. Her smile was bright. She lit up the entire room. Perhaps he was biased. She was his mom after all. Every memory he had of her was a beautiful one and her smile was going to be no exception. “Ready Kurt?” she crooned into the little boy’s ear as he situated himself on her lap.

“Ready!”

“Good.” Her eyes turned right to the lens. “Burt, you might think this video camera is just for recording the important stuff, but if you ask me, everything’s important.” She tilted her head down to kiss her son right on top of his head. “Someday our little man is going to be all grown up after all, and he’s going to need your understanding more than anything.” The boy wormed around so he could hug her. “I don’t know what’s going to happen over the next few years, the next decade, the next fifty years even. But I do know that I love you, and I love our baby, and I know you can do this no matter what happens. You’re going to have to be brave. But I know you can do it.”

“I’m brave!” baby Kurt announced.

“Yes you are!” She gave him another kiss. “Taking care of that closet monster all by yourself. I’m so proud of you.” 

Kurt leaned back in the chair. He’d been sitting on the edge, ready to switch it off at a moment’s notice it if became overwhelming. Yet he was entranced. No matter what came on the screen next he was certain he wouldn’t be able to. It had been ten years since he’d seen her face, heard her voice, felt her touch. Even her smell was fading now that they had moved to a new house. And he hadn’t even missed it. 

That, perhaps, was his worst crime.

“What monsters are we going to tackle next?” she prodded. The six year old hunkered down as though something were going to attack them on the spot.

“The ghosts in the stairwell. You know. To the basement.”

“Are they mean?”

“The worst. They trip me.”

“Alright, we’ll fix that right up. Together this time alright? I know you’re my big brave man but those ghosts can be so messy. I’d like to be there to make sure they don’t get too out of hand.”


	3. The Third Recording

When the video cut to its next scene (could it be called that? could it be called anything else?), it was the kitchen at their old house. Bright with the windows open and Kurt could see all the ingredients laid out on the counter. He knew. She didn’t have to say a word. He knew what she was making.

“Burt, pay attention. This is probably the most important cooking video you’ll ever see.” She held up each ingredient, told the camera what it was, and then showed each individual measuring device and explained what they were. She ended it with a wink. “I know you’re awful in the kitchen but you know as well as I do how much Kurt loves it when we cook up his favorites. And I know you don’t say it a lot but you do too.” She was careful with her ingredients. “And don’t forget the chocolate chips. He loves chocolate chips in his pancakes. That’s very important. You need to remember that forever so you can go and embarrass him at college by making these exact chocolate chip pancakes for him and all his friends.”

It has been nine years since he’d had chocolate chips in his pancakes. He remembered when his dad had tried making them. He really had put a lot of effort into it. But in the end they’d been flat, dry, and all around not very good. That was when Kurt started learning to cook.

But he had never made chocolate chip pancakes without his mom. 

“Moooooommm,” a whiney little boy moaned off camera. Kurt could hear his bare feet slapping heavily, almost defiantly as though being angry made a difference, against the floor. “I’m hungry.”

“It’s almost ready Baby.”

“Can I have some chocolate chips.”

“Not until the pancakes are ready.”

“But I promise I won’t eat a lot of them.”

“They’re desert, Kurt.” There was a pause for a moment. His mom kept right on cooking, not concerned with the child’s quietness at all. The camera caught his little arm fumbling around along the counter as he tried so hard to reach them. She’d already pushed them well out of his reach though. With a soft huff he gave up for the moment.

“It’s not fair.”

“It’s perfectly fair. It’s just not the answer you wanted to hear.” There was a bit more silence. Then the sound of feet again and slowly the top of his head came into view on the other side of the counter. There was a scraping sound and suddenly there was a little boy climbing up on to the stool next to the counter. He dropped himself onto it and just sat there - eyes fixated on the chocolate.

Kurt felt his mouth watering a little as the boy leaned forward. He remembered how much he’d wanted those chocolates. He always wanted the chocolates. His mom never relented. He watched as she moved her son off of the stool. “Why don’t you go wake up Dad, hm? Breakfast is almost ready.” There was a clear pout but he did as he was told. 

Step-by-step she showed Burt how to golden the pancakes and constantly stir the syrup till it was ready. Three platefuls of the most wonderful pancakes Kurt had ever seen were waiting when the guys reappeared. Burt turned off the camera.


	4. The Fourth Recording

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this one is a slow-going project as I slog through my last semester at college, I'm open to ideas and thoughts for future videos Kurt can see. So if you're reading this I would greatly appreciate hearing from you ;) I have about 15 total 'moments' plus an epilogue planned - though not written - but we could make this the cutest baby Kurt saga ever put to computer screen if you'd like to help me out. (Plus also I'd love to have more moments to work on as I start my life as a non-student and maybe suck at being a total adult for a while, these ficcys make me happy so I turn to them when I'm down.)

The film fell silent. Well, not completely silent. There was the sound of things bumping about but the background was too dark to see anything clearly. “Ok,” a quiet voice whispered into the dark. “Uhm.” The camera jerked about, as evidenced by the dark gray and black spots doing a little jig across the screen. “Oops!” There was a thunking sound as two unsteady hands made the tripod sit back up again. “There.”

A flashlight flicked on to reveal two big, bright eyes and one small child’s nose. That was all the more that could be seen given how close he was. “Hi Mom. I’m going to. To sing this for you and Dad. Tomorrow night. Ok?” The tiny boy took several steps back, holding his hands up in a clear attempt to judge distance. “You can see me,” he eventually decided.

He was in the garage, at night. That was definitely against the rules but Kurt knew what he’d been thinking. He wanted the show to be perfect without giving it away. He’d been scared he wouldn’t be good enough. 

“I wrote this.” He hadn’t, but it would be years before he understood that this was more of a skit than anything so Kurt was willing to give his six year old self a pass on that one for trying.

He took in a deep breath. “You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray.” The boy looked up and let out a little gasp and put his hand over his mouth. “Oh no! Rain, rain, go away! Come again...never.” The child on the camera sat up tall as he watched some spot beyond the frame. “There. All better.” He took another deep breath. “Here comes the sun, little darling. Here comes the sun-” There was the sound of metal hitting something in the distance. His flashlight fell to the ground and went out. The light was soon replaced with an overhead.

“Kurt? Are you out here?” Her voice was shaking. Kurt felt his heart clench. Her health had already been declining then and yet he’d gone out in the garage in the cold weather in the middle of the night when he knew it was wrong. He’d known she was sick. Of course she’d been alright enough but he couldn’t help the guilt that crept in. It wasn’t fair to her to do that. 

The child on film, though, ducked behind the car without a response. So she came out into the garage and went right to the spot where the flashlight had been. Her face appeared when she crouched down. “What do you think you’re doing out here!” 

“I’m sorry!” he replied, the tears evident in his voice though he couldn’t be seen. His mom’s features softened as he sobbed. “I didn’t mean to take it I was gonna put it back I-”

“Oh oh sweetie, no no, that’s not what I’m upset about. Come here. Come on.” Her arms encased the child. “What are you doing out here Kurt?”

“Practicing.”

“For the show?” His little head bobbed against her shoulder but he didn’t look up. “And you set up the camera all by yourself?” He kept on nodding. “You’re really talented. But you scared me Kurt.” His eyes turned up to her. “When I went to check on you and you weren’t in your bed, I thought something had happened to you. So...next time you want to practice, just tell me ok? Not when I’m sleeping. But any time of the day, just tell me. Can you do that?”

“Promise you won’t watch?” 

“I promise. I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise you have for me anyway.” His arms hooked around her neck as she pulled him close. “Come on, it’s time for bed.”

“Can I sleep with you.”

“Sure. But you have to walk by yourself.” Kurt had watched the child’s knees starting to give way as his tiny self tried to demand to be carried without allowing himself to say those undignified words. Six years old - spoiled rotten. “I have to put the camera away.”

“Oh.” She started to reach over to turn it off but she paused just a moment to blow a kiss to the lens.


	5. The Fifth Recording

The camera turned back on set up on a table. It captured one child’s dinner plate with the food mostly eaten and the milk all gone, but no child sitting in the chair. “You ready yet Sport?” Burt called out as he - based on where the sound was coming from it had to be Burt - adjusted the camera onto a makeshift stage. It was set up in the backyard with just a rod stretched between two trees and a couple of blankets tossed over it, pulled together to make the curtains. They had even pulled the LED work light out of the garage and set it up to create a makeshift spotlight for the kid. It just illuminated the whole backyard (which was somewhat unnecessary considering the sun wasn’t anywhere near being completely set yet) but Kurt remembered how professional he’d felt just having it there.

“NO!” 

“Do you think he needs some help?”

“Shh, Burt,” his mom whispered.

“He’s been back there for thirty minutes. What’s he doing?”

“Getting ready.” There was an audible harumph from the definitely busy man. Not too busy, of course, to spend all evening sitting around with his family, though Kurt knew he had been putting in a lot of extra hours at work back in those years. “Kurt, sweetie, Mommy and Daddy are ready to see your show.”

“Oh. Uhm. Ok. But...but I need someone to announce me.”

“Ohhhh that is something we didn’t think about isn’t it? Burt, why don’t you do the honors?”

“YEAH DAD!” Suddenly Burt was at the center of the camera. He was so much younger. When he pulled his hat off there was still hair on his head. It was already receding, but it was definitely there. Little Kurt’s head poked out from between the blankets. He had a hat on too. A shiny silver ballcap. It was all they’d had around the house to make up a last minute costume. He’d had no idea that the size could be adjusted so it had slipped a little sideways, almost over his left eye. Judging by the smile on his face he didn’t mind at all. 

“Ok ok, so,” Burt started, glancing over at his kid. “Tonight, now that we have finished a most wonderfully perfectly made meal, crafted with love by the beautiful Liz, we will be having a performance-”

“Of epic prop-pro-por-itions,” Kurt whispered up to him.

“Of epic proportions,” Burt corrected.

“Yeah.”

“Brought to us by the very talented Mr. Kurt Hummel.” 

“Woo-oo!” echoed off the side of the camera, along with a very enthusiastic round of clapping. Burt hurried back to sit down. “Alright sweetie, we’re ready for you.”

“Right,” the boy echoed her, finally revealing himself. For a six year old, he was rather fashionably dressed. And as shiny and glittery as possible, of course. “Hi. I’m Kurt and, and, and I’ll be performing some of my favorite songs.”

“Woo! That’s my baby!” his mom cheered. His head tilted down to his shoes for a moment as he hit play on the boombox. The exceedingly overplayed piano notes tinged their way through the backyard. Burt had heard the song so much that Kurt still caught him humming it from time to time. Then, of course, catching himself and groaning it off. He didn’t like the song. But Kurt had adored it.

Then the girl started singing, and Kurt...well, he was definitely mumbling something. Whether it was the actual song or not, the camera hadn’t picked it up. 

“You’re doing great Baby!” The little boy’s eyes turned down to his shoes until the chorus came along.

“I’VE NEVER HAD A DREAM COME TRUE,” he suddenly shouted out. “TILL THE DAY THAT I FOUND YOU! EVEN THOUGH I PRETEND THAT I’VE MOVED ON, YOU’LL ALWAYS BE MY BABY!” 

“Woo-oo!”

“Attaboy!” Burt tried. He didn’t sound nearly as enthused as his wife, but there was a definite deep encouragement in his tone. He wanted his kid to succeed at whatever he wanted to succeed at, and Kurt obviously wanted to put on a good performance for his parents. So he was going to cheer the kid on.

“I NEVER FOund the words to say…” The CD skipped and suddenly the little boy could hear himself just fine over top of it. His cheeks flared bright red. “You’re...you’re the...uhm You’re the one I think...about…” As it got stuck in a loop of a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a bout-bout-bout-bout-bout, the little boy ducked back behind his curtains again. 

“And I know no matter where life takes me to, a part of me will always be with you,” his mom sung out, walking up to his little platform and turning the player off. “Kurt, why don’t you come sing with me?”

“No.” 

She took a deep breath, waited for just a moment, then started on without him. Gentle and sweet.

“Somewhere in my memory,  
I’ve lost all sense of time.  
And tomorrow can never be ‘cause yesterday is all that fills my mind.  
There’s no use looking back or wondering-”

“How it should be or mighta been,” came quietly yet audibly through the curtain. 

“Oh this I know but still I can’t find ways to let you go.” Finally the child re-emerged, scurrying over to take his mother’s waiting hand. 

“I”ve never had a dream come true!” he sang with quite a bit more confidence, and all on his own too. “Till the day that I found you,” he repeated the chorus. His mother joined in, hitting all the notes softly with him. But then, right as it ended and was about to go into another verse (which Kurt obviously was not as comfortable with, if the way he started to muffle his words were any indication), the boy stopped their song abruptly. He’d had the world’s biggest epiphany. Well, as big as a child of his age could.

“What’s wrong?” Kurt just shook his little head and stepped forward, off the tiny step up that was his stage and towards his daddy. 

“I am now going to sing a different song!” he announced.

“Oh really?” Burt replied. “What is it?” The kid just offered an impish little grin before taking a breath and straightening his back. 

“Oooh I’ll...tell you something. I think you’ll understand. Oh I’ll...tell you something. I want to hold your hand!” It wasn’t perfectly in tune, and he was managing to over emphasize some of his words, but it hit all the notes effectively enough. There was no lack of confidence either. Considering how often the Beatles could be found playing both at their house and at the car shop, that wasn’t much of a surprise. As he sang out his words his two hands shot up - one towards his mom and one towards his dad. His mother accepted the bait quickly. “I want to hold your ha-aaaand. I want to hold your hand.”

His little hand flailed in his father’s direction, pausing in the song until Burt came over to join him, sitting right down on the grass and pulling him up in a hug. Then, something rarer than the sighting of a real unicorn, something grand happened. Burt sang. On film. Captured for all of time. “Oh please, say to me, you’ll let me be your man.” Little Kurt pulled on his mom until they were in one big cozy little family huddle. “And please, say to me-”

“You’ll let me hold your hand! Please let me hold your hand-”

“I wanna hold your hand,” Liz echoed back to them. The three of them launched into the song, together. It had been one of Kurt’s favorites back then. It still was, for the same reasons. When he was a toddler he remembered his mother dancing around with him in her arms, singing this song to him. He also remembered creeping out of bed one night to find her singing it to Burt as they, too, danced. The glow of the kitchen behind them lighting them up like, well...like angels. (At that young age he hadn’t yet realized he didn’t have to follow a religion if he didn’t want to, so the comparison hadn’t bothered him as much back then.)   
“I love you,” the little boy mumbled when the song was over. 

“And we love you, our little superstar,” Liz replied. They lingered there for just a moment. Then Burt looked back towards the camera. Or, rather, the table.

“But even superstars have to help their moms clean up after dinner,” he said, “because there is no one more important in this world than a mom.”

“RIGHT!” the little boy cheered. “But that means daddies have to help too.” He knew what he was doing putting on his cute face like that.

“Oh, right. Of course. Well let’s go!”

“I don’t think I’m familiar with this movie,” a debonair voice called out to him from the arch to the living room just as Burt disappeared off of the camera. Little Kurt of the past was lingering to steal a cheek-kiss from his mom before scampering off himself. Kurt hit the pause button to look up at his husband. “Kurt, are you-Woah, hey.” Blaine dropped his bag of Christmas goodies and hurried over to the man’s side. “What are you watching?” He reached up to dry off his beloved’s cheeks. These weren’t the normal emotional-over-a-movie tears. Blaine could certainly tell the difference by now.

“Just some old family videos.” Blaine hopped up onto the couch to pull him into a hug, glancing back up to the screen. 

“Family-So that kid there, that’s you then?”

“Mmhm.”

“You were so cute.”

“Yeah.”

“And...that’s your mom?” Kurt let his head fall onto Blaine’s shoulder. “You smile just like her.”

“Dad used to say that a lot. I smile like her, I look like her, hell sometimes when I answer the phone here people still respond to me with a ‘Oh hey Liz!’ and I have to tell them no she’s dead I’m her son. It’s been twelve years. And people still-” He cut himself off and wrapped himself around his man. “We can turn it off.”

“Actually, if it’s ok, I’d really like to see some of this.”

“It’s definitely ok.” Blaine gave him a soft kiss before they resumed the video.


	6. The Sixth Recording

“Ok Burt, I know this is a bit weird, but I think this is important too. Especially if he wants to stick with these little activities. This-” she turned the camera from herself to the brick building “-is where Kurt has his ballet lessons. I know I don’t need to show you where the baseball diamond is but I thought it’d be a good idea to show you what this place looks like since you’ve never been here. And...here is why it’s so important that you come out more often in the future.” She leaned over the passenger seat as the class let out. Their almost seven year old son came tumbling out the doors and running for the car.

“Mom!” he exclaimed.

“What?”

“We’re having a recital!” 

“I know! You keep telling me about it.” He buckled himself in with a grin on his face. “Did something happen?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What.” The boy clasped his hands together on his lap.

“Guess.”

“Uhmmmmm, I don’t know, what is it?”

“I got a solo!” 

“A solo!” His grin grew three sizes. Kurt felt his own growing as he snuggled more comfortably into Blaine’s side. Every child in the class got a chance to dance by themselves at that age, at least in that studio. It had been intended to build up their confidence and give them something to be proud about to encourage them to work harder to be even better. And it had worked. For him at least.

“Yup.”

“I’m so proud of you Kurt!” He let out a little giggly squeal.

“Can we go get ice cream now?”

“Uhm, well, you have baseball practice first, remember?” The smile dropped immediately.

“I want to go home.”

“What’s wrong with baseball?”

“It’s boring. It’s a lot of standing around and doing nothing!”

“Ahhh I see. So why did you ask us to let you join the team?” Kurt knew the answer. The boy couldn’t voice it but Kurt knew. “Kurt?”

“I thought it would be fun. But it's not...Will Dad be mad?”

“Why would he be mad?”

“That I’m quitting.” There was a lapse of silence long enough to cause the boy to look up. 

“You’re quitting? When did you decide this? Didn’t you just start?”

“I don’t like it!”

“But you just started.”

“But I don’t like it!” His arms crossed defiantly over his chest.

“Kurt, don’t you think you should give it a bit of a try? You might be surprised.”

“I hate it.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll tell you what. If you try playing at least through the first game, I’ll talk to Dad about it for you and if you still don’t like it after that game then we’ll talk to the coach and let you stop, ok? But you have to try it. You asked us to sign you up, so you have to at least try.” It was a reasonable compromise though little Kurt wasn’t happy with it.

“I don’t want to play.”

“Kurt.” 

“I don’t wanna!” He was still six after all. Six and already one of the most stubborn people on the planet. No wonder he’d been so sure of himself by the time he was in middle school. It was clear the little boy didn’t want to compromise who he was or what he wanted.

“I know, I know, but it’s only right for you to see through on your promise. You joined the team. Stick with it, don’t let your teammates down.” He curled his head down in that way that little kids did and put on his grumpy face. What she didn’t know was that his teammates had been part of the problem. They’d called him names like Sissy and Princess and Girl. The coaches hadn’t done much to stop it either.

The six year old didn’t tell his mom that though.

Kurt couldn’t remember why he hadn’t, but that, too, was a pattern of behavior he was very familiar with.


End file.
